


On My Worst Days

by silverspheres



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7999918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverspheres/pseuds/silverspheres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tao has a demon living in him and he hates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On My Worst Days

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [#28 of the October 2013 Prompts](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/228235) by 31_days. 



Zitao sits up with cold sweat all over his body. He looks around him, and for a moment, he is disoriented. He sees a frail-looking boy sleeping beside him, and he realizes who he was and where he was.  
  
He worries for a moment that the boy is dead, but when he sees his chest rise and fall, he lets out a deep breath.  
  
You see, Zitao has a tiny bit of a problem.  
  
To say it nicely, you could say he’s got anger management issues.  
  
Saying it nicely doesn’t really change the fact that he killed ten people in a rage, and this boy right next to him is the lucky one who didn’t get killed.  
  
It doesn’t matter if he knows he didn’t do it.  
  
It doesn’t matter if he knows that a demon lived in him and he can never stop it, no matter how hard he tries.  
  
It doesn’t matter if he knows that this demon is the one that did it.  
  
No one will believe him.  
  
He can feel the demon’s smile getting bigger as he feels the flames of his anger flare up at his desperation. He is itching to hit something, anything—and his eyes falls on the boy.  
  
He runs his hand through the sleeping boy’s hair and the boy wakes.  
  
“Zitao, what’s up? Go back to bed.”  
  
He swats at Zitao’s hand and rolls back to sleep while Zitao frowns and leaves the bed. He walks to his punching bag at the other room and punches.  
  
Zitao punches hard again and again until the punching bag is simply a mess of sand on the floor, yet his anger has only flared. He knows what could make him relax.  
  
Blood.  
  
And he has to get it.  
  
But then hands are on his shoulders and a pair of sleepy eyes stares at him. He feels water slowly trickling on his flames of anger and he can feel it dissipating and he could feel—  
  
“Calm down, Zitao.”  
  
“Sehun,” he murmurs. He finds himself unclenching his fists.  
  
“Calm down.”  
  
Zitao is swept into a hug, a tight and bony one, and Zitao realizes why this boy lived, while the other ten didn’t.  
  
He believes in him, even when he doesn’t believe himself.  
  
And he guesses that that is all that matters.  
  
Then he feels a whole tank of water has been poured all over his flames a heartbeat after a soft peck on his lips.


End file.
